A/N: I really like this chapter, so hopefully you will too. It's pretty long, but there is a long scene with Wilson's patient. I know I don't usually do patient scenes, but you'll see why I did it when you get there. It seemed like a good idea, and it kind of seems like something that would actually happen in the show. Maybe. Anyway, enjoy.
7.4—"Preemptive Strike"
The door creaked as House entered the condo.
"Oh, good, you're here," Wilson said, approaching the entrance hall. He handed the older doctor an overnight bag. "You can leave now. There's your toothbrush, your meds, a change of clothes for tomorrow, and box of saltines in case Cuddy doesn't feed you."
"Wilson, come on," House sighed, setting his backpack on the ground and massaging his temple with his free hand. "I'm not spending the night with Cuddy."
"Why not?" Wilson's hands were on his hips without even thinking about it. He didn't know he probably looked just like on of his ex-wives confronting him about cheating. "If that spectacle in your office was any indication, that's what you want."
"Give me a break," House said, rolling his eyes. "You know that's not what I want."
He tried to step closer to Wilson, but the oncologist backed away.
"Don't. Don't touch me. I don't care if you go to Cuddy's or not. Just leave. I don't want to look at you right now."
House was used to hiding his feelings. Even when something really hurt him, he didn't show it. This was the case now.
He averted his eyes from Wilson, in case there was some unintentional emotion showing through, and asked slowly, "You don't want me anymore?"
If House had been looking at him, he would have seen Wilson's face falter for a second before becoming stoic again. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Not if you're gonna be making out with other people."
"She kissed me!" House exploded, glaring at him. "I didn't kiss back! I told her the other night—she had her chance and she blew it, she's too late and I don't want her anymore!" His mind completed, it was you I really wanted from the start, anyway, but he couldn't say that.
"You didn't kiss back," Wilson repeated in disbelief. "Maybe I was too far away to observe any movements of tongues, but you sure as hell didn't push her away."
"She surprised me. I didn't move. I just stood there and waited for her to finish. I didn't kiss back because I don't have any interest in kissing her." He looked at Wilson, his eye contact adding the sentence, I only have interest in kissing you.
Wilson still had his arms folded. "I don't know," he said. "You've always loved Cuddy, House, don't deny it. You've loved her before you even met me. When you got out of Mayfield, you pursued her, not me."
"I didn't know you were interested," House pointed out. "You never said anything—how was I supposed to know you wanted me back? I'm not gonna deny that I loved her, Wilson, but that doesn't mean—do you really need me to say it? Seriously? You don't know it by now?"
"Why is it so difficult for you to say?" Wilson pestered, his tone carrying a note of accusation. "I tell you I love you all the time."
"You already know it," House retaliated. "And it's not gonna change. You should know that too. I shouldn't have to say it."
"You should want to say it."
"You should be secure enough in our relationship that I shouldn't have to say it."
"Maybe my security in our relationship got threatened by you kissing another person."
"I didn't kiss her!" House hollered. "She kissed me! I can't control the actions of another person!"
"You can control your own actions," Wilson retorted.
"And I did. I didn't kiss her back, Wilson. How many times do you need me to say it?"
For a moment they just stood there, breathing heavily and looking at each other. House made another attempt to close the space between himself and Wilson, but Wilson backed away again. He shook his head at the diagnostician. "You say you didn't kiss her back. Fine, I believe you. You didn't kiss her back this time. How do I know you won't kiss her back next time?"
House looked at him with disbelief. "You don't trust me? You seriously don't trust me? For god's sake, Wilson, you're the last person in the world with the right to lecture someone about cheating!"
"This isn't about me!" Wilson shouted, enraged. "I haven't cheated on you, House! And I'm not going to!"
"Sure!" House scoffed. "How long's that gonna last? You've made it one entire month without cheating, congratulations. That must be a personal record for you. Do you want a little chip to carry in your pocket?"
"I don't need this," snapped Wilson. "I haven't done anything, anything, to give you cause for doubt. My assistant actually asked me the other day if she's done something wrong because I've been so careful not to flirt she took it for unfriendliness. But no, you're so sure I'm going to screw up you're not even going to give me a chance. Because you're so sure that people never change. You think I'm always going to cheat? Well I think you're always going be a miserable misanthropic bastard. Screw you, House."
The door slammed before House had a chance to register it. He reopened it immediately, hobbling into the hallway. "Wilson!" he shouted. "Come back!"
The stairwell door also slammed and House cursed his leg as he pressed the down button on the elevator. By the time the elevator got to the ground floor, Wilson was gone. House didn't even get a chance to see which way his car went. Sighing heavily, House pressed the up button for the elevator.
[]
Wilson didn't need to look up from his desk to know who it was. Even before they'd become lovers, House had been the only person to strut into Wilson's office whenever he felt like it without knocking.
"I don't want to talk to you."
"I don't care. We need to talk."
"Right, I forgot, since when do you care for another person?" Wilson scoffed, looking up angrily. He wasn't nearly as put-together as usual; the hotel brand shampoo and hairdryer couldn't cut it, and the extra dress shirt and tie he kept at work in case of emergencies were almost wrinkled.
"Wilson, don't–"
"–No, you don't," he cut House off. "I don't want to talk to you. Leave."
His glare took House aback. Wilson didn't usually look at him like that. His eyes looked angry and hurt. There was no forgiveness (even though House hadn't even done anything), and House couldn't find a trace of affection either.
That stung more than words could.
"Fine. You don't want me, you don't want me. Have a nice life." He stomped out of the office.
[]
When he stormed into her office, her first thought was that the glare in his eyes looked fierce enough to freeze water vapor.
"You need to go tell that idiot that used to be my boyfriend that you kissed me, I didn't kiss you back, and I am not interested in a relationship with anyone other than him."
"I don't need to do anything," Cuddy retorted, standing up from her desk to draw herself to her full height. "Tell him yourself. I've got more important things to worry about than your and Wilson's relationship."
"I already told him. He's not listening to me–"
"–Gee, I wonder why that–"
"–This is your fault," House accused, striding up to her and glaring down from his taller height. "You kissed me, you started the problem, you have to fix it."
"You are in no position to tell me what I have to do," Cuddy answered, placing her small hands on her hips in a gesture that caused House a small pang of pain because it reminded him of Wilson. "When two adults in a relationship have a problem, they talk through it until they come to a solution, they don't recruit other people to fix it for them."
"The only problem is you–"
"–It's not my fault you can't have a simple adult conversation, House," she snapped. "Don't blame me for your inability to maintain any sort of meaningful relationship."
[]
Wilson walked over to Exam Room Two and a confused look crossed his face when a fully dressed patient came out. Thirteen had asked for a consult—why was the patient leaving already? Maybe the patient was a child and that was her mother, just leaving the room for a minute. Wilson slipped inside only to have Thirteen close the door behind him and stand in front of it, crossing her chest with her arms. The room was empty except for them. He gave her a confused look.
"You called me for a consult?"
She shrugged, her back against the door. "Everybody lies."
He looked at her. "What's going on?"
"House is in a mood. He hasn't been this bad since you got together. I'm guessing you had a fight. What's going on?"
"Oh, god, he put you up to this, didn't he?" Wilson asked, running fingers through his hair. "Look, I haven't got time for this, I've got patients–"
"–No, he didn't put me up to this," Thirteen countered, stepping away from the door and closer to Wilson. "He's upset. I'm concerned for him."
When he gave her a look of surprise, she rolled her eyes.
"Wilson, just because you're the only one he really lets in doesn't mean you're the only one who cares for him." Then she inspected him. "You do care for him, don't you?"
"Oh, of course I do," Wilson said, sighing and pacing around the room because he couldn't stand still.
"Well, then whatever's going on you need to get fixed," Thirteen explained, stepping beside him to catch his eye. "Not only does he make our lives miserable when he's miserable, he needs this. You need to work it out. You need to talk to him."
"And what makes you assume it's my fault?" Wilson snapped, frowning at her. "Maybe he did something to upset me."
"Did he?"
"He kissed Cuddy."
Thirteen stared at him, wide-eyed. Then she shook her head. "I don't believe that. He loves you."
"I saw them," Wilson insisted.
"Maybe you were mistaken," Thirteen suggested. "Did you talk to him about it?"
"Of course I talked to him about it." Wilson said defensively, as though he was offended by the suggestion that he would break up with House without discussing the kiss first, despite the fact that that had been his original plan.
"He admitted he kissed her?"
"Well, I mean, he said that she kissed him and he didn't kiss back, but I saw them and–"
Thirteen cut him off with a scoff, recrossing her arms and shaking her head. "And you're choosing not to believe him because that's easier."
"Easy? What, you think this is easy?" Wilson demanded.
"Easier than the alternative," Thirteen shrugged.
"Yeah, because the last few weeks of my life haven't been the happiest, they've been the most trying," Wilson said sarcastically.
"Please," Thirteen said, rolling her eyes. "This isn't about you thinking House cheated on you; it's about you being afraid you're going to cheat on him."
He stared at her. That was almost exactly what House said. That didn't make it true. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why can't anyone give me the benefit of the doubt here? It's different with House."
"Then why aren't you giving him the benefit of the doubt?" Thirteen asked. "He says he didn't want to kiss her, he means it. You're just making excuses, Wilson, because you're scared. You want to blame this on him because you're scared of screwing it up yourself."
He glared at her. "What makes you thinks this is any of your business?"
"Someone's gotta look out for him," she said. "It can't be you, because as his boyfriend, it creates a conflict of interest, and it can't be Cuddy because she's still upset about him choosing you over her. Foreman doesn't want to get too involved and Taub doesn't seem to care that much. That leaves me and Chase. He's keeping an eye on House and I get to talk with you." She leaned against the wall. "I understand why you're getting upset with me, but I'm doing it for him."
A part of Wilson understood what she meant. It reminded him of the time Cameron had convinced House to go on a date, and Wilson had confronted her beforehand to make sure she wouldn't hurt House. Thirteen was just doing the same thing. Part of him respected her for that—he loved House and didn't want him to get hurt—but what about Wilson? Who was there to look out for him and make sure he didn't get hurt? He'd been convinced that House loved him, loved him most, when they kissed and when House held him at night, but he'd still wondered, occasionally, where the older man's heart stood with Cuddy. She was a threat.
"Wilson," Thirteen said, interrupting his thoughts. He looked at her. "Are you going to talk to him?"
"I don't know," Wilson sighed, looking down. "I feel like this was a bad idea. I feel like it's just going to end with us getting hurt."
"It might," Thirteen conceded. "But you have to ask yourself," she said, and he locked eyes with her, "is he worth it?"
[]
Tap, tap.
"Can I come in?" Wilson asked when House looked up.
House shrugged.
Wilson sat down in front of House's desk. "All right," he said. "I may have...overreacted...to you and Cuddy kissing. I...I feel threatened by her."
"You shouldn't be," House said flatly. "I don't love her anymore, and even when I did...well, you know."
Wilson still didn't understand why House couldn't just say he loved him. Well, he decided that wasn't important, he trusted that he did, and at least now they might be okay again. "Right," Wilson said, nodding. "Well, I'll try to remember that."
"Are we okay now?" House asked, looking at him from across the desk.
"Yeah." He attempted a smile. "I forgive you."
House's expression became blank. "You forgive me?"
"Yeah."
"I don't want you to forgive me, Wilson," he said, suddenly glaring again. "I didn't do anything. If what I wanted was forgiveness, don't you think I would have apologized?"
Wilson thought back and recalled that House hadn't once said he was sorry for kissing Cuddy. His anger returned and his forgiveness evaporated. He looked back at House. "Maybe I thought you owed me an apology."
"Well I don't. Nolan told me that I shouldn't feel guilty for things I can't control. I'm not apologizing, Wilson. I didn't do anything wrong."
"You know what, forget it," Wilson said, getting up. "I came in here wanting to make amends but you just have to make everything difficult."
"Yeah, that's me, all I do is make people's lives difficult."
"Forget it," Wilson repeated. "I'm done. I give up." He stalked out of the office and his frustration increased when the glass door closed slowly behind him without slamming.
[]
Wilson decided to make his rounds, hoping that might take his mind off his fight with House. Not that the thought of children with cancer was any more cheerful than the thought of he and House being through.
Stephanie was only seven, and she had leukemia. She was still receiving treatment, and it was too early to tell if she was going to improve. Wilson could hear arguing through the door and grimaced. She was a sweet little kid, but Wilson hated it when her five-year-old brother Brandon was in the hospital with her because all they did was fight. Wilson put on his doctor smile when he entered the room. "Hey, Stephanie," he greeted. "How we doing today?"
"Brandon, let go of my blanket!" the girl ordered, glaring at her brother and ignoring Wilson. "You pinched me when you squeezed it. You're hurting me. Stop it."
"I'm sorry, Steffy," the boy said, looking distraught. "I didn't mean to."
"Just go away," she whined, putting her face in her hands. "I don't want to see you."
He didn't sob, but silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Wilson glanced at their mother, who was giving him an apologetic look. What could she do? The little girl was seven, and she was sick, and maybe she didn't need to speak to her brother that way, but she didn't need a lecture, either.
When Wilson finished checking Stephanie, he motioned her mother outside to talk. She picked up Brandon to take with them, but once they got outside the exam room he squirmed to get down and promptly went back inside with his sister. The mother sighed as she watched them argue through the glass before turning to Wilson. "How's she doing?"
"All right," Wilson said, keeping his voice level. "It's too soon to tell if there's any improvement, but so far she doesn't seem to be getting worse. I know you're doing everything you can, but..." He wasn't a parent, and he wanted to approach the issue with sensitivity. "Fighting cancer puts Stephanie's body under a lot of stress. The recovery...often works better if there are fewer outside stressors. She and Brandon...do they always fight like that? It can't be helping the situation, and it's not healthy for either of them."
The mother sighed. "I know. I don't know what to do." She watched them through the glass. "You know, they never used to be like this, ever. She's always been the most attentive and loving big sister, and Brandon just adores her. But ever since...since the diagnoses, all she does is shout at him. And the thing is, Dr. Wilson, he's never really doing anything wrong. It never used to bother her if he'd play with her toys or go into her room, but now every little thing sets her off. And every time I try to chastise her for it, she starts crying and talking about how she doesn't feel good and I just feel so guilty I can't do it."
Wilson laid a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe I can talk to her," he suggested.
She nodded.
Wilson opened the glass door. "Stephanie," he addressed the girl, "Your mom is gonna take Brandon down to the cafeteria for a snack. Is it okay if I sit and talk with you until she gets back?"
"Yeah," Stephanie agreed. "I don't want him here," she explained, pointing to her brother.
A grieved look crossed the mother's face as she took her son by the hand and led him out of the room.
Wilson sat on the edge of Stephanie's bed and looked at her. Her eyes were green and probably bright, but at the moment they were clouded with anger.
"Do you want to talk to me about your brother, Stephanie?"
She crossed her arms and pouted. "I hate him. I hate when he plays with me. He always messes everything up."
"Did he always mess everything up?" Wilson asked gently. "Your mom told me that before you got sick, the two of you got along very well."
"I know," she whispered, not catching Wilson's eye.
"So..." Wilson prodded softly, "around the time you got sick, he started doing things to annoy you?"
She nodded at her knees, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Stephanie, are you okay?" Wilson asked, placing a hand on her arm.
Her chin quivered as she met Wilson's eyes. "I don't hate him," she whispered. "I just...yell at him a lot so he'll leave me alone. I pretend I'm mad at him so maybe he won't love me anymore. But even when I yell at him, he doesn't leave me alone."
"I think he just wants to help you get better," Wilson pointed out. "Maybe instead of yelling at him, you could explain that your parents that you need some alone time. You're getting older, too. We all find that we need some more privacy as we get older, and especially when we're not feeling good. But sometimes, especially when we're upset, it makes us feel better to have someone we love with us."
"It's not that," Stephanie said, shaking her head. Tears streamed down her face. "I do want to play with him. I'm not really mad when he goes into my room, or when he spills juice on me by accident. When...when I was five I had chicken pox, and we still played together and he got sick too. He got sicker than I did. But this is worse than chicken pox. I didn't have to go to the hospital for chicken pox. I want him to think I'm mad at him so he won't play with me anymore." Her voice trembled. "I don't want him to get sick."
Wilson's heart broke, and he reached for her as she started crying. "Stephanie, it's okay," he said, rubbing the child's back. "Brandon's not gonna get leukemia just because you have it. It doesn't work like that. It's not contagious. Do you know what that word means?"
She nodded and wiped her eyes as Wilson pulled away from her. "'Contagious' means that if you're around someone who's sick, you get sick too."
"That's right," Wilson said. "But the sickness you have isn't like that. It's not contagious. Stephanie, you can play with Brandon all you want and he won't get leukemia just because you have it."
Her face broke into a watery smile. "Really? He won't get sick? You promise?"
Wilson held her hand. "I can't promise that he won't get sick, Stephanie. We don't know why people get sick. Brandon probably won't get cancer. But even if he does, Stephanie, I promise it won't be from playing with you."
She smiled and leaned over to hug him again. He returned the hug gently. "When Brandon comes back, I want you to tell him you love him. Can you do that, Stephanie?"
She nodded. "Thank you for telling me I can play with him again, Dr. Wilson."
Wilson met her mother at the door when she returned and ushered her outside. "You have a very selfless little girl in there," Wilson said, smiling at her.
The mother looked confused. "What did she say?"
"She doesn't actually get mad at Brandon for any of the things he does. She was just trying to protect him. She thought she would get him sick, so she tried to drive him away."
"Oh..." the mother said, her shoulders relaxing. She wiped a tear from her eye and looked through the glass at her children. She smiled and whispered, more to herself than to Wilson, "I hoped we were doing something right."
[]
"I'm scared," Wilson admitted, accosting House about to leave his office for the night.
House looked at him.
"I don't blame you for what happened with Cuddy. I don't think I ever did. I was just...looking for an excuse to break up, and to make it your fault, because I'm scared." Wilson sighed. "I'm scared I'll screw it up somehow. Cheat on you. I don't know. I don't want to, House, I swear it's the last thing in the world I want to do. You mean too much to me. I don't want to lose you. And I don't want to hurt you. I want to promise that it will be different with you and that I'll never cheat, but I can't. I've made that promise before and I broke it. I can only promise that I'll try. I..." he wasn't crying, but his voice broke for some reason. "I don't want to screw it up. With you, I don't want to screw it up. Can you..." he sighed and looked up at House, his eyes pleading. "Can you give me a chance?"
House caught his eye and looked at him for a moment. Eventually he shrugged. "We made it this far."
Wilson decided to take that as an affirmative. He threw his arms around House and kissed his lips, deeply and passionately. House closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Wilson, kissing back with equal force. He pulled back for a moment, just to look into Wilson's eyes before going in for another kiss, but Wilson used the time he had his mouth free to whisper, "I love you." House's mouth twitched in a smile before he kissed him again, and ran his fingers through Wilson's soft brown hair.
While kissing, Wilson managed to extract his cell phone from his pocket.
[-]
Thirteen was on the first floor with a bag over her shoulder. She heard her phone buzz and glanced at it. It showed a text from Wilson, 'Thanks.' She smiled and placed the phone back in her bag.
"Hey," Chase said from behind.
She looked over his shoulder at him. "Hey."
"You leaving?"
"Yup."
"You..." he shrugged, "want a ride home?"
"I do have a car here," she pointed out.
"Not what I asked," Chase replied.
"Uh-huh," she said, nodding. "And...how do I get to work tomorrow?"
Chase shrugged again. "Well, we can worry about that tomorrow."
She gave him a half-smile, half-smirk, and he put his arm around her shoulders and walked her out the door.
[-]
Cuddy wasn't even on the fourth floor for Wilson or House. There were plenty of offices up there. The fact that she walked by House's office was purely coincidence. The fact that the glass doors gave her a clear view of two of her department heads groping each other (fine, they were just kissing, but her brain exaggerated it) caused her to stop in her tracks and temporarily forget why she was up here in the first place. Then she shook her head, turned resolutely away from House's office, and continued on her way. She slipped her cell phone out of her lab coat pocket as she walked.
[-]
Lucas was in his office watching TV with his feet on his desk. He saw his phone vibrating on his desk and glanced at the TV for a second before he picked it up. He'd received a text message.
'I'm sorry. Can we talk?'
A/N: BTW, as you're reading the ending scenes, if you like you can imagine background music playing, you know, just like they do in real episodes. It can start with House and Wilson kissing, get softer when Chase and Thirteen are talking, and then pick back up with the Cuddy and Lucas parts. Yeah, I have this all planned out.